


If you crash (I'll crash with you)

by tentitoo



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gaby feels guilty for causing them, Illya is concerned, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Napoleon suffers from heart problems after torture, Sickfic, also Gaby ships Napollya, he also pretends it's nothing, heart problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7834195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentitoo/pseuds/tentitoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happened none of them thought anything about it and were quick to discard it as nothing serious but boy were they wrong...</p><p>(Or, a couple of weeks after becoming a team Napoleon starts passing out for no apparent reason and Illya is very concerned)</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you crash (I'll crash with you)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for the TMFU fandom and I'm actually quite proud of it! I've read a ton of fic's where Napoleon has PTSD and suffers quite a bit with the aftermath of his electrical torture but I started thinking what if instead of psychological damage there is actual physical damage? It might not be visible but it's still there...
> 
> Just a small warning: English is not my first language and this fic hasn't been beta-ed so if you find any spelling/grammatical mistakes they're my own and please feel free to tell me about them.
> 
> Also comments make my day and they only take a couple of minutes to write so if you enjoy it please let me know you did :)

The first time it happened none of them thought anything about it and were quick to discard it as nothing serious. Napoleon and Illya had just come barging into Gaby's hotel room slightly dishevelled and panting startling the Chop Shop Girl.

"What happened?" Gaby demanded only a little vexed for being so rudely interrupted from her leisured reading of a fashion magazine. “I thought you were going to have dinner at the pub.”

"We were but Peril here decided it was a good idea to take the bait of a rather obnoxious man at said pub and punched him in the face. As it happens that particular man was a gang leader and all the other men in the pub wanted our heads on a silver platter," Napoleon explained as he ran his hand through his rebellious curls to get them back to place and moved to her minibar to fix himself a drink.

"Oh Illya..." Gaby sighed and Illya had the decency of blushing slightly and looking contrite.

"We did not need to run, Cowboy. We could have taken them," Illya said crossing his arms in a defensive stance. "Running away made us look weak."

Napoleon poured two fingers of scotch to a tumbler and cocked an eyebrow at the Russian looking unimpressed.

"I’m perfectly aware we could have taken them. They were unarmed and most of them were drunk, we've been through worse.” Illya opened his mouth to protest but Napoleon raised a finger to stop him and proceeded with what he was saying, “However, we wouldn't have escaped unscathed and you have to charm the pants off a mark tomorrow so we couldn't really risk that pretty little face of yours now, could we?"

Napoleon took a sip of his scotch to hide his smug smile.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day where Napoleon Solo became the reasonable one of the team," Gaby said with a light chuckle.

"I did not think about that..." Illya admitted.

Napoleon widened his eyes feigning surprised.

"Why Peril did you just admit I was right and you were wrong?"

Gaby giggled and looked at Illya to see how he’d react. Out of the three of them Illya was the only one actually trained to be a real spy so he usually prided himself on always being right. He also loved telling Napoleon ‘I told you so’.

"Don't be cocky Cowboy it doesn't suit you," the Russian grumbled.

"On the contrary Peril, being cocky it's my trade-"

Napoleon stopped mid-sentence and all of sudden he was lying on the ground unconscious his scotch tumbler shattered right next to him.

"Solo!" Gaby jumped to her feet but Illya was faster.

Illya kneeled on the floor next to his partner and pulled him up so his back was laying on his lap. He checked for a pulse and was relieved when he found one.

"Cowboy wake up!"

Napoleon groaned and his eyelids fluttered opened. Relief flooded his partners. He looked disoriented and confused as he looked up at Illya who was still holding him.

"What happened?" Napoleon asked.

"We do not know. One minute you were talking to us and the other you were out cold," Illya explained helping him sit upright.

Gaby started to pick up the glass shards as she shot a concerned look at the American.

"You cut yourself on the glass," Gaby noted as a fine line of blood dripped down his fingers.

Illya helped him to the couch and Gaby made a point of ignoring how Illya’s hands lingered on Napoleon’s arms when he helped him down as she always did when they danced around each other. Their dance started happening sometime around their second mission together as a team and Gaby decided to get out of their way and let them solve whatever was happening between them on their own.

“Well that’s a waste of good scotch…” Napoleon sighed as he eyed the stained carpet.

Illya glared at him.

“This is not time for jokes.”

"It must have been low blood pressure. I haven't eaten since this morning and we didn't get to eat at the pub. I felt quite dizzy and weak before everything went black. That must have been it."

"I'll call room service and ask for some food then," Gaby offered as she discarded the shards and went to find the phone.

Illya sat beside him and took Napoleon’s hand in his to remove the small pieces of glass his hand had landed on. Napoleon was still a little bit disoriented as if he wasn’t quite himself at the moment but he still noticed with a hint of surprise how careful his partner was being with him considering the destruction those hands were capable of.

"No need for stitches. Just small cuts. You were lucky Cowboy," Illya said handing him a handkerchief to clean the blood.

“Thanks.”

Gaby hung up and joined them back at the living room.

“A cart will be brought up as soon as possible,” she announced and Napoleon nodded in response.

He grimaced and tried to settle more comfortably on the couch. It usually isn’t a pleasurable experience to fall down and hit your head even if the floor is carpeted so he thinks his grimacing is justified. Nonetheless, it shouldn’t warrant the twin concerned looks from Gaby and Illya.

Napoleon sighs.

"I'm fine now. Or I'll be as soon as I eat," he assured them.

"You just collapsed on us Solo. It's normal we're a little bit concerned," Gaby quipped.

"I promise I'll keep some snacks on me from now on.”

**

“Get in!"

Illya saw a car slowing down by the curb next to him. Napoleon was inside and shouting at him to get in from the opened passenger’s window. The Russian agent opened the door and jumped inside the moving car.

“Couldn’t you find a more spacious car?” Illya grumbled as he tried fitting his big legs on the little space he had. “Crappy car…”

“For your information this is the newest Ford Mustang and also the only car I could find in such short notice. Beggars can’t be chooser Peril,” Napoleon retorted as he pressed down on the gas.

“Do you have the disk?”

Napoleon pated his inner breast pocket.

“Right here,” he replied eyes focused on the road ahead.

Illya nodded and finally managed to find lever that allowed his seat to go back and give his legs more space.

“Damn it,” Napoleon muttered next to him and Illya looked at the wing view mirror. They were being followed by two cars and their pursuers were quickly gaining terrain on them.

If that wasn’t bad enough they had now started shooting at them. A bullet whizzed near Napoleon’s ear and went through the front window. A couple of inches to the right and he’d probably be a dead man but with the adrenaline he was feeling at the moment he barely even noticed. He loved a good car chase.

Illya counted how many shots he still got and turned back to Napoleon. “I am going to shoot their tires, try to keep the car stabilized.”

The American nodded and Illya twisted himself to get his torso out of the window. He didn’t miss, he rarely did. The tires of the closest car burst and the car swerved out of the road and went crashing into a tree, catching fire not much later.

“Nice shot Peril,” Napoleon praised.

“Thank you Cowboy,” he replied and ducked quickly to avoid a shower of bullets sent in his direction. “I have one more shot. I need to shoot driver in the head or we are screwed.”

“Make it count then.”

Illya nodded and once again his torso was out of the car. He aimed, internally pleased at Napoleon for managing to keep the car steady enough for him to have a clear shot, and he took it. The car lost control and tumbled down the slope overturning.

“Mission accomplished,” Napoleon grinned at his partner.

Illya allowed himself a small smug smile in response but it was brief as a bullet came from the rear window and clipped his jacket near his shoulder. He turned around to see the other thug in the middle of the road with a gun pointed at them.

“дерьмо,” the Russian hissed.

Napoleon glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Illya never curses so he feared for the worst when he saw his partner grabbing his shoulder. Napoleon grimaced at the thundering in his chest. He pressed down on the gas and the man quickly disappeared from their view. They’re out of bullets and the man doesn’t have a vehicle so it sounded like the best option at that moment.

“Illya are you hit?” he wanted to know unable to conceal the concern in his voice.

“No, he just ruined my favourite jacket…” Illya grumbled as he picked at the tear and wondering if it could be mended.

Napoleon let out a sigh and a shaky chuckle feeling relieved.

Illya looked up from the tear when he noticed the car slowly swerving to the left almost going down the slope. He quickly reached for the steering wheel saving them at the last second.

“Solo what the-?” he stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Napoleon was unconscious.

Illya cursed internally and slowly pulled the handbrake until they came to a halt. He checked the American’s pulse and once again was relieved when he found one. Napoleon woke up without prompt this time. He took a sharp intake of breath and blinked a few times looking disoriented.

“When did we stop?” he asked taking notice of their static surroundings.

“When you passed out,” Illya snapped back feeling angry and extremely concerned at the same time.

“I was out again?”

“Yes and you almost threw us of the road.”

“I’m really sorry Peril… I don’t know what happened.”

Illya was silent for a moment taking in his partner. He looked fine but it was the second time he was out cold in a five-day period for no apparent reason.

“You did eat this time, right?”

“Yes… Maybe it was an adrenaline crash,” Napoleon wondered. “I’ve a had a few in a past though I had never fainted before. I did feel my heart thudding an awful lot before I was out.”

“I think you should go see a doctor. There was very little time between the two accidents, they might be related.”

“It was just an adrenaline crash… Don’t need to exaggerate it,” Napoleon huffed.

“Let’s switch places,” Illya replied.

“There’s no need Peril, I’m fine now.”

“If you truly had an adrenaline crash it means your body needs to recover. You should try and sleep it off.”

Napoleon frowned not enjoying being patronized but he knew when to pick his fights and he still felt bad for almost causing them to crash so he just nodded and exited the car to switch places with the Russian.

“How long was I out?” he asked when they resumed their driving.

“I didn’t see you had passed out until I felt the car swerving but I’d say about 20 seconds…”

Napoleon nodded and leaned against the now closed window. He did feel drained maybe Illya’s suggestion wasn’t so bad after all. It didn’t take too long for him to doze off completely oblivious of the concerned looks his partner was sending his way.

**

“I believe a celebration is in order,” Napoleon said three days later after another successful accomplished mission in Munich. Their fifth in a row.

“Way ahead of you my dear Solo,” Gaby said with a smirk and grabbed a bottle of champagne she had ordered beforehand. Somehow they always ended celebrating in her room so she liked to be prepared.

Napoleon’s eyes widened enthusiastically at the sight of the expensive champagne.

“My expensive tastes have been rubbing off on you,” he teased.

“You corrupted Chop Shop Girl with your capitalism,” Illya grumbled looking up from his chess set to scowl at them. “Now she’s almost as bad as you.”

“Now Peril, that’s not very nice thing to say,” he chided.

“I’m not corrupted, I just enjoy spoiling my boys with good stuff and wasting Waverly’s money in room’s service,” Gaby pouted looking like a kicked puppy at Illya.

Illya sighed unable to resist Gaby’s doe eyes and batting eyelashes.

“Fine… Just this once but we do not need more spoiling. Cowboy is spoiled enough already,” he mumbled.

“I’ll just open this then,” Gaby said as she removed the foil.

Her deft fingers quickly removed the wire cage and she finally proceeded to unscrew the cork by rotating it. Napoleon realized her mistake a second too late.

“Gaby wait!” Napoleon shouted but it was too late and he found himself covered in champagne spillage.

Illya couldn’t help himself and let out a genuine laugh, Gaby looked at him incredulous and Napoleon sighed and looked down at his ruined suit jacket and neck tie and his now see-through designer shirt.

“I did exactly as you taught me,” Gaby said still in shock.

“You should have rotated the bottle rather than the cork,” he explained. “Even so… You should avoid pointing the bottle at people even when opening it correctly in case the bottle’s too warm or was shaken incorrectly.”

In the background Illya is still laughing. It’s the first time they’ve actually seen the Russian agent laugh and despite being slightly annoyed for being at his expense, Napoleon can’t help but notice how different he looks with his face split into a wide, white-toothed grin, his eyes lit up with it. Sure they had heard him chuckle on certain occasions but never truly laugh. It was a sight to behold.

“Oh I’m loving this celebration,” Illya finally says shoulders still shaking despite his efforts to get his laugh under control. “I take back what I said Gaby. Please spoil us more often if it means giving Solo a champagne bath.”

“You’re hilarious Peril,” Napoleon replied dryly.

Illya stopped laughing and put on his stoic expression but there was still a slight smirk at corner of lips that betrayed him. He was now watching Napoleon attentively as he tried to wipe thick drops of champagne from his long black lashes only to have a few more fall from his loose curls. Though he really wanted to he forced his eyes to keep above the American’s neck.

“I’ll get you a towel,” Gaby offered.

“No need, I’d better just go take a quick shower and change,” he declined politely and headed to the door. He opened it and then stopped his hand still on the doorknob and added as an afterthought, “Don’t start celebrating without me.”

“As long as you don’t take an hour to get ready,” Illya replied.

“Contrary to your beliefs I do know how to get ready fast, I was in the army after all. I simply enjoy pampering myself.”

“Then go! We’ll wait fifteen minutes and then we’ll start without you,” Gaby said shooing him out of the door.

As soon as Napoleon left Illya fetched a small tracker from his jacket pocket and turned it on. Static filled the room.

“Should I even ask?” Gaby asked cocking an eyebrow and sitting on the loveseat opposite to Illya.

“I told you Solo fainted on our last mission,” he said rotating buttons until he apparently finds the channel he was looking for and they can hear clothes rustling and napoleon quietly humming to an upbeat song. “I think something is wrong with him.”

“So you bugged him?”

“I feel more reassured if I can listen to what he’s doing when he’s on his own.”

“Illya,” Gaby started out slowly and carefully as if he were a live bomb needing defusing, “I think it’s sweet that you worry so much about Napoleon,” she pointedly ignored the levelled glare he sent her away and proceeded “and I know that planting bugs on us is the way you show you care about us. I even admit they’ve come in handy a couple of times! However, don’t you think listening on Solo while he’s taking a shower is a little… you know…”

“What?” he huffed looking at her with defiance.

“… creepy,” Gaby finished deadpan.

“I’m just monitoring. There’s nothing creepy about keeping your partner alive.”

Gaby let out a deep sigh, she knew better than to argue with Illya. He was obstinate and rarely admitted he was wrong so why even bother. She pulled down her black cat eye sunglasses with white polka dots and laid across the loveseat placing her crossed feet on one of the arms.

They could now hear a door being opened and not much later the sound of water running. That was followed by more clothes rustling, curtains being opened and closed and a little sigh of pleasure that could almost be described as sinful once Napoleon entered the bathtub. When Gaby looked at Illya she could swear his cheeks had reddened a bit but he had returned to his chess game and was avoiding her gaze so she couldn’t be sure.

She felt weird spying on Napoleon. Sure she had spent evenings listening on private conversations that she wasn’t supposed to hear but those were essential to find out dates, hours and places to dismantle terrorist networks or avoid terrorist attacks but this was different, this was Napoleon and he was taking a bath and singing in perfect Italian not exactly planning to kill the Dalai Lama.

The sound coming from Illya’s tracker eventually turned into white noise as Gaby got distracted with a magazine and Illya with his chess so the lack of noise fifteen minutes later catches the latter’s attention.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

“What? I don’t hear anything…” Gaby said confused.

“Exactly, something’s wrong.”

Illya is up and out of the door almost immediately stalking down the corridor in long strides. Gaby put down her magazine and quickly followed. Napoleon and Illya’s rooms were on the floor below but they didn’t take long to get there. Illya called for him but there was no answer so he tried the door. It was locked so he used one of lock pick tricks Napoleon taught him and found Napoleon half-dressed lying unconscious on the floor.

He called his name expecting Napoleon to wake up like the previous times but he doesn’t even move. There’s no pulse this time when he checks and there’s no sign of breath as well. Illya’s stomach clenches with dread.

“Call an ambulance and then call Waverly,” Illya said calmly despite feeling just the opposite.

Gaby nodded and went to look for the telephone. Meanwhile Illya had kneeled beside him and turned Napoleon to his back to and start the chest compressions. Every thirty fast compressions he’d stop tilt his head back, pinch his nose and close his mouth with his, give two blows then check for sound of breathing. Basic CPR training he’d learned at the KGB.

By the fifth set of thirty compressions and two blows Gaby had joined him and Napoleon still hadn’t stirred.

“Cowboy don’t die on us,” Illya said through gritted teeth as he compressed his chest with more strength than necessary. “Help is on its way; you just have to hang on a little longer.”

“Illya…” Gaby called quietly.

He doesn’t even acknowledge her. He gives him two more blows and checks his breath, still nothing and he’s back at the compressions.

“Don’t you dare leaving us you selfish bastard!” he yelled. “Don’t. You. Dare.” he repeated compressing his chest harder with each word.

There was a knock on the door and then three men came in followed by the hotel’s general manager.

“Emergency services,” one said in German. “The door was opened.”

“We’re in here,” Gaby called back and got up.

They all came into the room and quickly went for Napoleon.

“We found him collapsed on the floor, no pulse and not breathing but his air vents aren’t obstructed,” Gaby explained the closest EMT and he nodded. “It’s the third time he has fainted but the other two times he regained consciousness a few seconds later.”

“Thank you Miss, we’ll take over now,” he replied politely and then turned to the EMT that had just checked Napoleon’s pulse. “I need the defibrillator!”

The second EMT went for their medical kit and took out a portable defibrillator. He ripped open Napoleon’s half done shirt and started applying gel to his chest and charging the paddles.

“Sir we need you to let go of your friend,” the third EMT told Illya who had been slightly pushed aside but was still clinging to Napoleon’s hand.

“No!” Illya grunted in response.

“Sir please understand, we’re going to need to restart your friend’s heart and you can’t be holding to him or you’ll be shocked as well,” he insisted.

“Illya,” Gaby called softly as she kneeled by his side. She took his big hand in her petite ones and uncurled his fingers from Napoleon’s. “In order for him to be alright the EMT’s need to do their job.”

Illya took in a ragged breath as he got up and pressed his lips together in a thin white line. Instead of yelling at the EMT’s in frustration for them to hurry up like he wanted to he settled on holding onto Gaby’s hand as hard as he could. He was probably hurting her but she didn’t complain.

The second EMT prepared the paddles and shocked Napoleon one time. Gaby winced quietly as she saw their partner’s chest twitch with the shock. The same EMT checked for a pulse and shook his head and the third EMT restarted the CPR for two minutes until the second EMT could shock him again. Only at the third try did Napoleon take a small intake of breath.

“We’ve got a pulse!” the second EMT said urgently. “We need to transport him to the hospital quick!”

Illya stiffened next to Gaby. He wanted nothing more than to help Napoleon but he couldn’t, not in this case. Gaby squeezed his hand in comfort.

“I told you he’d make it,” she said.

The ride to the hospital was everything but calm. They had to restart Napoleon’s heart again during the ride and then again when he got to the hospital but he was finally stable according to the doctors and was put into an induced coma while they assessed if he had sustained any brain injury due to the lack of oxygenation. After a few hours Waverly called saying that he had arranged for Napoleon to be transferred to the nearest U.N.C.L.E. medical facility in Salzburg by helicopter. It was quicker than traveling by train taking only twenty minutes.

As soon as he got in he was put into a private room and Illya and Gaby were taken into the head doctor’s office, Dr Dorn, much to Illya’s displeasure.

“Mr Waverly has sent me Mr Solo’s file but he said that you two might be more helpful than the file itself,” Dr Dorn said as he gestured the two chairs in front of his desk and took a seat. “I understand this wasn’t the first time Mr Solo has fainted, am I correct?”

“Yes, he has fainted twice previously but recovered quickly afterwards. The first time he said that it was probably low blood pressure due to not eating and the second one an adrenaline crash,” Illya said.

Dr Dorn hummed as he checked Napoleon’s medical chart from the previous hospital.

“I believe he was recently tortured with electric shocks.”

“He was,” Illya confirmed once again.

Gaby looked at him with her brows furrowed in confusion but didn’t speak.

“Is it possible that he suffered a sudden cardiac arrest during said torture? His ECG shows signs of ventricular tachycardia and I believe it has evolved to ventricular fibrillation leading to his collapse.”

“I don’t know if he suffered one. When I got there he was awake and the only physical damage I could see was a nose bleed. He was seen by the medical team on site at the time and they said he was okay.”

“It’s hard to diagnose a heart condition without the proper exams and it’s not that uncommon for symptoms to only show a couple of weeks later. How long has it been three weeks, a month?”

“Around that, yes.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Gaby interrupted. “That’s all that matters.”

“My team and I have been working on an implantable device that should fix Mr Solo’s problems, it will require a small surgery, a short stay after and a quick recovery though he should avoid exerting himself during the first month.”

“Somehow I don’t think Napoleon will mind that terribly,” she couldn’t help but smile with relief.

“We’ll perform the surgery the day after he wakes up. He’s no longer on an induced coma so he should be waking up in more or less twelve hours but it might some more time… I can’t really give you an exact time as it often varies from patient to patient. You’re allowed to stay with him if you like though.”

“Can we go see him now then?”

“Yes Mr Kuryakin.”

“Finally…” the Russian grumbled and exited the doctor’s office at once.

He was all the way down the hallway when he heard Gaby calling for him. Illya stopped and waited for the petite German agent to catch up with him. As soon as she reached him she hit him in the shoulder with all the strength she could muster but it wasn’t enough to make him move or flinch.

“Why didn’t you tell me Solo’s been tortured?” she demanded.

Illya had the decency to look contrite but didn’t reply.

“Three weeks ago… That was our first mission together,” Gaby was suddenly hit with realization, Illya could see it in her eyes. “He got tortured because I betrayed you, didn’t he?”

When Illya didn’t reply again her eyes filled with unshed tears of guilt.

“Solo almost died because of me…”

Illya let out a pained noise. He didn’t really do emotions or rather he didn’t know what to do when other people got emotional especially Chop Shop Girls he’d grown to care about.

“This is exactly why Cowboy didn’t want to tell you. He said you would blame yourself but you were following orders and had no way of knowing Uncle Rudi would torture Solo.”

Her eyes grew even bigger and Illya mentally scolded himself at his stupidity.

“Uncle Rudi did this?” A few silent tears fell down her cheeks.

“Yes. Apparently he was very skilled in torture, he even had this scrapbook of people he tortured but it is all gone now. He was burned alive due to a glitch on the machine he was using to torture Solo, you know that.” Illya cupped Gaby’s small face in his big hands and wiped out her tears with his thumbs. “Do not cry Chop Shop Girl you heard Dr Dorn, Cowboy is going to be fine.”

Gaby sniffled and a couple more tears fell down her cheeks slightly smearing her mascara.

“I also know Cowboy would hate to see you cry. You know how much he hates to see a lady in distress,” Gaby let out a small chuckle despite her tear streaked face, “So why don’t you go to the ladies’ room, get yourself presentable again and then we’ll go see Cowboy?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’ll go get us something to eat while you’re at it and we’ll meet here again.”

It took all of Illya’s restrain not to go straight to Napoleon’s room and check on his partner but he had promised Gaby he’d wait for her and so he went to get them something to eat. Gaby arrived before him but she too waited before entering Napoleon’s room.

“A nurse just left and told me he’s still asleep,” she informed.

“We wait then…”

**

Gaby had long dozed off on the small couch on the far left of the room and if Illya were honest with himself he’d been fast asleep as well if the plastic chair he was currently sitting on wasn’t so uncomfortable. As everything in the damn hospital it was too small for him.

Napoleon was taking his time waking up from the induced coma. Illya had lost track of the time they’d been awaiting but he hadn’t budged from the American’s bedside since their arrival. Napoleon looked so peaceful despite everything… Like he was sound asleep instead of recuperating from a massive cardiac arrest. His features were relaxed and his hair was curling slightly as he probably hadn’t had the time to put any product on after his shower. His curls looked so soft Illya was tempted to run his fingers through them but decided against because it would be extremely unprofessional. Then again… It’s not like anyone would know… Both Napoleon and Gaby were asleep and the room was empty apart from the three of them.

After what seemed like an eternity of internal debate Illya decided to go for it. He leaned forward and ran his hand through the curls pushing them back from Napoleon’s forehead. His curls were as soft as they looked much to Illya’s pleasure.

“Come back to us Cowboy…” he whispered as he unconsciously grabbed Napoleon’s hand with his free one.

His right hand left the American’s curls and descended to lightly trace the sharp lines of Napoleon’s face with the tip of his fingers. When he reached the lips he hesitated for a moment. They looked so plump and soft he felt the sudden urge to trace them with his own lips but that definitively crossed some kind of line he was still not ready to cross. He had touched them before but he was so preoccupied with keeping Napoleon alive at the moment he couldn’t really remember what it had felt like.

As he was about to trace his lips when Napoleon suddenly winced loudly and Illya quickly removed his hand as if he had been burned. The American’s eyes opened drowsily and he looked around once again looking disoriented.

Gaby had almost instantly woken up at the sound and ran to Napoleon’s other side to check on their partner.

Napoleon was still looking around apparently trying to understand what had happened to him by studying his surroundings. Gaby was on his left with slightly red rimmed eyes despite the smile on her face and Illya was on his right looking everything but the stoic Russian he’s used to with his slightly dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks. He brought his hand to his chest and winced again.

“Who has been jumping on my chest?” he asked his voice cracking.

Gaby let out a small hitching breath looking incredibly young and broken for a moment and then started to chuckle despite the couple stray tears that fell from her eyes. Illya’s face, on the other hand, closed up and he went from relieved to furious.

“I told you the fainting was not normal! I told you to go see doctor!” the Russian suddenly snapped, his accent sounding thicker than usual. Only Napoleon would think of making a joke after worrying them to death.

Napoleon let Illya scream all he wanted focusing instead on the Russian’s hand clutching his (with more force that strictly necessary) as if he hadn’t even notice he was holding it. Despite not wanting to admit it, Illya had been right he knew he deserved to hear everything Illya was throwing at him even if his brain was only being capable of registering single words at the moment. _Selfish, irresponsible, foolish…_ All true and a bit deserved.

“We thought you had died…” Illya said quietly looking like he had finally calmed down and ended his tirade.

Napoleon looked up at his partner.

“Well Peril unfortunately for you it seems I’ll still be around for a little bit longer,” Napoleon quipped one of his charming smiles plastered on his face.

All of a sudden Napoleon was pulled up and found himself in Illya’s tight embrace. He was surprised at first but recovered quickly melting into Illya’s chest in return and circling his partner with his own arms as well as he managed loosing track of where his body stopped and Illya’s began. He felt safe and comfortable despite his still sore chest.

“You’re an idiot if you believe I wanted you to die…” Illya muttered still holding him close.

“I was just kidding Peril… You Russians have zero sense of humour.”

Gaby cleared her throat and both men let go of each other instantly flushing red.

“I don’t mind you boys having a personal moment but at least wait until I leave the room next time…” she smirked.

“Gaby, dear, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about…” Napoleon replied as he tried (and failed) not to grin.

“Of course not…” she smiled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to call Waverly and let him know you’re awake and then I’m going to get your doctor. I believe that’ll take around fifteen minutes so… Make the best of it boys.”

Napoleon had no idea Illya was capable of blushing so furiously even his ears turned slightly red but it was a good colour on him.

“Will do!” Napoleon assured as he waved Gaby out of the room. When the door clicked he turned to his partner with a smug smirk. “So Peril… It seems you’ve saved my life once again. It’s a real shame I don’t remember any of it… Do you want to re-enact my rescue and make those fifteen minutes count?”

“You are so infuriating Cowboy…” Illya retorted before closing the gap between them.

It turns out Illya was right again. Napoleon’s lips were as plump and soft as they had looked.

**

Napoleon leaned forward and pressed his face to the crook of Illya’s neck. He traced his jaw with feather like kisses and started to descend towards the base of the Russian’s neck feeling the slight morning stubble graze against his lips. Illya hummed in approval and Napoleon added a scrape of his teeth when he traced his partner’s collarbone. His hands accompanied his descent sliding down Illya’s sides stopping just above the elastic band of his boxer briefs. His lips continued their journey down Illya’s chiselled chest and stopped when he reached his right nipple.

Napoleon couldn’t help but smile mischievously when he heard Illya’s sharp intake of breath. During the course of time they had been together he’d found out the Russian agent had quite sensitive nipples. He lapped at the nub teasingly until Illya began squirming under him.

“Cowboy…” Illya groaned in protest. Napoleon smirked but went back to action taking the nub between his lips and sucking and nipping as he knew Illya liked it the most. He then proceeded to give the same treatment to the other nipple. Illya let out a throaty moan and suddenly spun them around so he was the one straddling Napoleon’s hips.

Before Napoleon could say something about Illya always wanting to be in control the Russian kissed him hard. Napoleon wasn’t taken aback and kissed back almost immediately, one of his hands went to the nape of his neck and the other slipped through the blond hair pulling him closer. They kissed and kissed, clutching each other tight, hands roaming everywhere, hips grinding together until Illya suddenly pulls back.

“черт побери…” Napoleon wasn’t pleased with the interruption and sat straight so he could have better access to Illya’s body once again but he pushed him away. “Cowboy stop.”

“No, no, no, no, _no_!” Napoleon whined. “Peril- Illya don’t you dare!”

“Sorry Cowboy… Doctor’s orders,” the Russian replied and rolled over so he’s lying on the empty side of the bed rather than straddling Napoleon. “No exerting yourself for a month.”

“God I hate you!” Napoleon falls back against his pillow and pouts. “It has been two weeks and I feel just fine!”

Illya propped up on one elbow to have a clear look of his sulking partner and couldn’t help the fond smile that took over his lips.

“Dr Dorn said that you should avoid activities that increased your heart rate and I am pretty you know that sex is one of those activities.”

Napoleon turned his head to look at Illya and frowned.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I’m tired of waiting. I want you desperately and I have proof you clearly want me too,” he gestured to Illya’s crotch and the Russian could help a faint flush. “I no longer have stitches and I’m doing just fine according to the test they’ve put me through so far.”

“They still told you to take it easy. We will have all the time in world once you are back in action,” Illya insisted and combed a few stray curls away from Napoleon’s forehead.

“That’s another two weeks! And Waverly will want us back in the field as soon as Dr Dorn says I’m fine… We won’t have down time for a while since Waverly gave us the whole month.”

“You should be thankful Waverly decided against separating the team and let Gaby and I wait until you recover,” Illya chided. “And even if we do not have down time for a while I am sure we will work something out.”

Napoleon sighed apparently resigned.

“Just so you know… You’re the infuriating one, not me! And if I die over the next two weeks it won’t be from heart failure I’ll die from the world’s worst case of blue balls and that’ll be on you. Hope you can live with that.”

“It’s impossible to die from blue balls, the blood will eventually drain out and if not you can go to the hospital to get it drained,” Illya shrugged. H was just pushing Napoleon’s buttons now.

“As I said… Infuriating,” the American grumbled.

Illya just chuckled and pressed his lips against the newest scar in his partner’s chest tenderly.

**Author's Note:**

> дерьмо – shit (according to Google Translate)  
> черт побери – damn it (according to Google Translate)
> 
> I was actually forced to do a lot of research for this fic and still I'm aware some things are out of their time, namely the ICD procedure Napoleon goes under. The ICD development started in the late 60's but it was only finished in 1975 and the first procedures only started to take place in the 80's and were a lot more evasive requiring a thoracotomy (please don't look it up your faint of heart, it's not that pleasant), long recovery times and could lead to complications from major surgery so there were fewer than 1000 implants per year.
> 
> For Napoleon's sake I pretended that the UNCLE labs were way ahead of their time and the ICD was much more modern than it actually was for that time only requiring a small surgery with minimal complications, short hospital stays, rapid recovery and long battery longevity (~9 years opposed to the 1.5 years of the first ICD's). (Source: http://www.slideshare.net/JoseOsorio16/history-of-icds-internal-cardiac-defibrillators)
> 
> Concerning the CPR (aka cardiopulmonary resuscitation): it's designed to help someone who’s had an unexpected cardiac arrest. The idea of CPR is not to start the heart beating again, but to get oxygen into a person’s lungs to prevent brain damage thus being important to continue the CPR until professional help comes. To restart the heart would usually require an electric shock. If someone without a pulse appears to recover and regain a pulse through CPR, then the chances are that their heart was still beating faintly all along. (Source: http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20140217-does-cpr-usually-work)
> 
> The defibrillators have been around for quite some time (since 1930) however, only in 1959 did they report the first portable defibrillator. Despite that fact they weren't as common in the early 60's as they're nowadays but they still existed and were pretty much as bulky and big as the non-portable ones but portable so I went with it anyway. Hope you don't hate me for it but unless Illya had a secret portable defibrillator in his pocket there's nothing he could really do about it and I was going for realism...
> 
> There aren’t actually any direct flights from Munich to Salzburg, you usually have to transfer in between flights to get there so must people just take the train and get there in about 1h40 which is not much however I found a website that said that by plane it would take around 10 minutes to get from one city to the other and surely Waverly could get an helicopter to pick up one of his best agents and get him to safety so I thought that maybe 20 minutes was a fair amount of time considering that helicopters don’t fly as fast as planes and they were transferring a patient.
> 
> As for induced comas a person can be put in an induced coma for a lot of reasons but basically any condition where major organs such as the heart, the lungs or the brain stop working properly require an induced coma. The time it takes for a person to wake up after being in an induced coma will depend on the reason they were put in an induced coma and the time they were on an induced coma. If it’s not a lot of time usually people will wake up after 12-72 hours which was Napoleon’s case.
> 
> Hope you liked it and if you found any mistakes please let me know xx


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